


gonna wear that dress you like, skin-tight

by PeppyBismilk



Series: Casphardt Kinkmeme Fills [5]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Anal Sex, Clothed Sex, Clothing Kink, Gremory Linhardt, M/M, Magic As Lube, Make Love Not War, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Rough Sex, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-06-22
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:41:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24863230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PeppyBismilk/pseuds/PeppyBismilk
Summary: Linhardt convinces the powers that be to let him take the Gremory exam. He passes, and Caspar helps him celebrate.Kinkmeme prompt fill for Gremory Linhardt.
Relationships: Caspar von Bergliez/Linhardt von Hevring
Series: Casphardt Kinkmeme Fills [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2009218
Comments: 22
Kudos: 88
Collections: FE3H Kink Meme





	gonna wear that dress you like, skin-tight

**Author's Note:**

> Fill for this [kinkmeme prompt](https://3houseskinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/1608.html?thread=1663304): _we all know Lin is best suited to gremory and the game not letting you promote him to it is bullshit. please give me Linhardt 1. getting to pass that gremory exam and 2. getting righteously dicked down in that cute dress._
> 
> _my preference for who's doing the dicking is Caspar, but Hubert, Yuri, Jeritza or m!Byleth would also be great. i just want to see gremory Linhardt!!_

“Do you disagree, Professor? Do I not possess the requisite skills for the Gremory class?”

Seteth sighs and rests his elbows on his desk, just like he did the last time Linhardt broached the topic. “Your skills are not the issue here, we simply do not—”

“Do not have a uniform befitting a man?” Linhardt supplies. “Your gender bias is showing. I have no qualms about wearing a skirt.”

At this, Seteth goes bright red, and Linhardt can’t imagine being that repressed. 

“There’s just no precedent for a male Gremory!” Seteth splutters.

“Well, then!” Linhardt clasps his hands together. “What an opportune moment to change that! Or perhaps you don’t want me to realize my full potential?”

“Ask the Commander,” Seteth finally says, worn down just like Linhardt counted on. “If he agrees, then I will rewrite the doctrine.”

Linhardt smiles. That’s exactly what he wanted to hear. 

“Sure,” is all Byleth says, just like Linhardt knew he would.

The next day, Linhardt passes the exam with ease. The armorer offers to make some extra alterations “to better suit him” but Linhardt will hear none of it.

The way the bodice hugs his body is magic all on its own. The skirt follows his movements, its many layers swishing and swirling as he turns this way and that. Somehow, it’s lighter than air, a whisper on his skin, as if the robe itself is made of wind magic.

But the best part is the mane.

Elegant black feathers line his back and shoulders, running down his arms and fluttering in the breeze. They leave goosebumps on his neck and cheeks when they brush against his skin. The elegant gloves, purely an aesthetic choice, for their thin fabric offers neither protection nor power, seem to charge his fingertips with confidence, leaving them tingling with the energy of spells not yet cast.

Rendering Caspar nigh speechless is just another bit of the magic.

“Whoa, Linhardt you…” Caspar swipes a hand across his mouth. His eyes linger just below Linhardt’s face, on the expanse of skin exposed by the off-shoulder neckline. “I’m so happy they finally let you take the test, and just…wow.”

Linhardt doesn’t need breasts to fill out the gown, and if the glimmering drop of drool at the left side of Caspar’s gaping mouth is any indication, the potential for enemy distraction is limitless.

Caspar’s not an enemy, but distracting him is much more fun.

“I’m enjoying the freedom of movement,” he says, swinging his hips to ruffle the skirts. 

“Wait.” Caspar’s eyes go wide and he drops his voice to a (still loud) whisper. “Are you  _ naked _ under that skirt?” 

“Are we not all naked beneath our clothes?” Linhardt counters, straightening his shoulders and watching Caspar’s pupils dilate. A little thrill, entirely independent of magic, runs through his body. 

“You know what I mean!” Caspar leans in closer. “Are you wearing underwear or not?”

Linhardt smiles. “Why don’t you come find out?”

Seconds later, they’ve ducked behind some taller shrubbery in the courtyard, and Linhardt’s bent over, clutching handfuls of branches as Caspar hikes up his skirt from behind. Layer upon layer of fabric collect around his hips until Caspar uncovers his bare ass.

“Holy—other people saw you like this!?” Caspar almost growls it, trailing his fingers over the curve of Linhardt’s rear.

“Not quite like this,” Linhardt says with a shiver. “But yes.”

Caspar breathes out a curse. “That’s so hot.” 

He molds himself to Linhardt’s back, snaking his arms around Linhardt to stroke his bare shoulders. The fabric shrugs off at Caspar’s urging and chilly air rushes Linhardt’s nipples. Caspar’s large hands cover them immediately, but his warmth only makes the peaks harder as he rubs them in rough strokes. His cock is solid against Linhardt’s bare ass, slotted right in the center, fabric setting his nerves ablaze as Caspar grinds against him. 

“Tell me the truth,” Caspar whispers in his ear. “Is this why you wanted these robes so badly? So I could fuck you in them?”

“It was—” Linhardt’s voice cracks when Caspar shoves his pants down and puts them skin to skin, his bare cock wedged between Linhardt’s asscheeks. “It was third on my list.”

“Only third?” Caspar grabs his hips, fingertips digging in. Linhardt’s glad for the skirts pooling between his legs, saving him from fucking the shrub’s scratchy branches.

“I am, first and foremost, a mage,” says Linhardt. “But I think you’ll find that works in your favor.” And he summons white magic to his gloved fingers before pressing them to Caspar’s cock, healing magic streaming out in excess. They both hiss—it’s cool, colder than the air, and slippery, and Linhardt slides his fingers down Caspar from tip to base.

Caspar swears again as he starts to rock his hips once more. “Shoot it inside,” he urges, pressing in deeper even though Linhardt’s asscrack can’t accommodate his girth.

“Inside your cock?” Linhardt gasps out, only half-joking. 

“Shit.” Caspar’s hips snap against his. “No, in your ass.”

Imbuing Caspar’s dick with magic will have to wait for another day, and with a sigh, Linhardt pushes Caspar’s cock out of the way and shoves his finger up his own ass. It doesn't take much to stretch around his slender finger, but the new sensation of fabric on his rim sends shivers through him before he even gets the magic inside. 

“Fuck, your glove looks good in there,” says Caspar, and he grabs Linhardt’s wrist and shoves his finger in deeper, fucking him with his own hand. Linhardt cries out and Caspar leans past the feathers to kiss his neck, sucking the skin black and blue. The robes are so low cut that everyone will see the marks, and that gets Linhardt even hotter. “Show me what you can do,” Caspar urges, shoving Linhardt’s finger in as deep as it can go. 

With a deep breath, Linhardt finds his magic again. It’s stronger, with the confidence his new title and costume brings, and he pushes it inside himself. He forces air through his teeth—the chill is almost unbearable against his inner walls, so cold it burns as it searches for damage that isn’t there. Something else blazes as he fills himself with Faith magic—the desire for Caspar to utterly destroy him, to give the spell something to heal. 

“Another finger,” Caspar demands, yanking his hand out. “Open yourself up for me.”

“It’s going to take”—Linhardt’s breath hitches as Caspar shoves two gloved fingers inside him—“more than two to get me ready for your cock.”

The angle pulls at his shoulder, and he pumps magic there, too.

“Better make it three,” says Caspar, harsh at his ear. Once more, he pulls Linhardt’s hand out and shoves it back in, rubbing his cock on Linhardt’s thigh in time with each thrust.

“Do it,” Linhardt moans, releasing the branches to run his other hand across his chest, pressing on his nipples to give himself some relief. He doesn’t dare touch his aching cock but he feels every brush of fabric against it. What better way to break in his new robes than by getting them absolutely filthy? 

After one more rough thrust, Caspar pulls Linhardt’s arm out, and Linhardt grabs the bush again for stability. The only warning he gets is Caspar’s tip, cool against his tingling rim. With a yell, Caspar pushes in, so deep his balls hit Linhardt’s ass. He’s so much bigger than Linhardt’s fingers, stretching him wide open. The magic soothes the sting, and Caspar doesn’t wait to start pumping his hole, fast and hard like only he can. Friction scorches his skin inside and out and it feels like the spell can barely keep up. Linhardt rides the line between pleasure and pain, rutting against Caspar so fast the fabric of his skirts gets caught between their bodies. Caspar scoops up the layers and sweeps them to the front, pressing them against Linhardt’s crotch to keep them out of the way and put even more pressure on Linhardt’s cock. 

“You’re so gorgeous,” Caspar tells him, raining kisses on his neck as his other hand roams Linhardt’s exposed chest. “So fucking pretty,” he adds, sounding more like himself.

His praise spurns Linhardt; the dress is power and sex—everything he hoped it would be. If only Seteth could see him now, getting railed in the courtyard in the splendid robes he had to fight to wear. 

_ “Harder, _ ” he urges Caspar, angling his hips higher so Caspar’s cock rubs his prostate because it makes him loud. He wants the whole monastery to hear, to know what Caspar’s cock does to him, to realize the potential of magic beyond the callousness of war. 

“Please, Lin,” Caspar begs as his thrusts go clumsy. “Can I?”

He tries to steady himself, pressing on Linhardt’s cock even harder, so hard he can feel every fiber of the silken cloth. Every time Caspar gets the angle right, the pleasure builds, a tide threatening to crash, and Linhardt nods. Caspar understands. 

Caspar has no aptitude for magic, but he’s supernatural when he’s unhinged, slamming Linhardt hard enough to rattle his bones. Once, twice, three times and he’s coming, crying out in broken bursts as he buries himself as deep as he can.

The contrast—fire and ice—shatters Linhardt, pulsing through his body with so much power he’d collapse if Caspar weren’t holding him. Magic sustains the orgasm, tide after tide crashing through his body every time Caspar moves or even breathes at his back. He’s fuller than he’s ever been, high on cock and come, drunk on Faith and fulfillment. This is his true potential: magic not for might but for pleasure, for himself, Caspar, and no one else.

When the spell fades and the skirts of his fall to his feet once more, Caspar turns Linhardt in his arms. Gently, tenderly, Caspar pulls the robes back into place, securing the sleeves at Linhardt’s shoulders. He kisses Linhardt’s lips and runs a finger along the neckline of the dress, sending one last phantom pulse through Linhardt’s body. Caspar is always calm in the moments after sex, and Linhardt wonders if this is a glimpse of the future, of what’s to come once the war ends and they’re no longer soldiers. 

“Congratulations,” says Caspar, and there’s hope in his smile. “I know you’ll be the best Gremory there ever was!”

He steps back to look at Linhardt, gaze brimming with love and lust, and Linhardt preens. He’s a mess, come-stained skirts littered with twigs and leaves, but he’s never looked better. 

“Come on,” says Caspar, “let’s get you out of those robes so we can wash them.”

The thought of staining the robes with anything so undignified as blood pains Linhardt, but the war won’t last forever, and with Caspar at his side, he’s willing to fight to see the end.

And when that day comes, he’s definitely keeping the robes. 

**Author's Note:**

> Please look at [this gorgeous art](https://twitter.com/elefxxk/status/1275512987739205632?s=21) that [elefxxk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elefxxk/pseuds/elefxxk) drew of Linhardt and Caspar in the courtyard! Please check her Twitter and AO3 for more incredible art!! I’m such a fan 💙
> 
> ——
> 
> It’s Casphardt anon again, and I hope you like the fill, OP! Your prompt was genius, because we were robbed of Gremory Linhardt.
> 
> I have so many fills in the works! The fisting one and the power bottom Caspar prompts are next on my list, but I really want to get to all of them!!! Even if I can’t, please know that any time someone mentions me on the kinkmeme I want to cry tears of joy. It’s so much fun writing these stories, and everyone who enjoys them is precious to me.
> 
> Title comes from Good for You by Selena Gomez. 
> 
> My other Casphardt kinkmeme fills  
> [the rest can all fall apart](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24110557) (first time)  
> [where do you get off](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24553393) (sex on a crowded train)  
> [run me 'til i can't go further](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24346504) (size kink)  
> [intoxicated, flying high](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24473587) (sweat kink)  
> [somebody once told me](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24458335) (jerking off while watching shrek)  
> [knocked](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24649873) (ass eating while playing video games)  
> [keep your chin up](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24811681) (deepthroating)  
> [gift-wrapped](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25027519) (powerbottom Caspar)  
> [can’t live without your love inside me now](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25079596) (fisting)  
> [no small feat](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25243759) (small dick and proud Caspar)  
> [getting better all the time](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26412094) (bad sex turned good)  
> [overdue](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26451880) (librarian kink)


End file.
